


I Only Wanna Make It Good

by dirtybutterfly (limenitis_arthemis)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Casual Sex, M/M, Objectification, Partner sharing, Sex with a stranger, brief derogatory language, soft D/s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-28
Updated: 2014-03-28
Packaged: 2018-01-17 07:07:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1378348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limenitis_arthemis/pseuds/dirtybutterfly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>And Stiles knows he should stop. That it’s not fair to pick at this but now he’s starting to picture it. Imagining what Derek would look like bent over one of the tables, stretched open and waiting for whichever eager stranger got to him first. </p><p>And part of it is just knowing how gorgeous Derek’s ass looks with his cheeks spread wide, his hole wet and puffy, that makes that a pretty sweet picture. But there’s something else. Something about the idea that they would all love to fuck him, but that Derek would never say yes, would never betray him, which makes him want to say yes for Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Only Wanna Make It Good

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KeriArentikai](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeriArentikai/gifts).



> Title is from Bryan Adam's "Forgive Me," because despite attempting to write something pretty raunchy I spent the whole time with that darn Canadian's sappy songs playing over and over in my head. What can I say, I can't help being overwhelmed by feelings. Stiles and Derek just love eachother very very much. 
> 
> For Keri, of course, bc she is the organ grinder of porn and I'm her trained monkey.
> 
> See end notes for more specific warnings.

They’re at a club when Stiles notices for the first time. Sure he _knew_ , before, but more in a theoretical way. Yes, Derek’s unbelievably hot, so of course other people are going to want to fuck him. But now he really watches how their eyes follow his ass, the way their mouths drop open and their faces glaze over. One guy’s pants are so tight Stiles can actually see his cock get hard looking at Derek peel off his jacket to reveal the too small green t-shirt stretched over his chest. And while he’s not obsessive about his workout routine the way he was when they were running for their lives on the regular, he’s still got a better body than anyone else in the club. So Stiles understands why people look at him like that. Obviously.

On the other hand though, it’s Derek. Derek who dances like a 45-year-old soccer dad and spends Sunday afternoon watching pseudo-historical documentaries and hides empty chocolate chip cookie boxes under the bed so Stiles won’t realize he ate the whole thing in one sitting. And Stiles thinks he’s wonderful and loves him and would want to sleep with him no matter what he looked like because he just wants to be with him. So sometimes he forgets just how powerfully strong Derek’s sexiness can be; those days of sneaking through the preserve and lusting after the broody mysterious older guy are almost like a fever dream now.

But now, now that he’s paying attention to just how badly so many people want to get up on that and knowing that he is indeed the only one who gets to, Stiles starts to feel a little proud, a little puffed up that Derek is _his._ And sure on one level he knows that Derek is his own person, Stiles doesn’t own him, and he should be offended for his partner that so many are blatantly objectifying him. But mostly he just feels really turned on.

Stiles doesn’t totally understand why he’s not jealous. But the way it’s finally hitting home, that underlying understanding that Derek could easily have anyone he wanted, it doesn’t make him nervous in the least. If anything it just underlines how fucking committed Derek is to him, to their relationship. And that feels amazing.

He can’t help but say something after that. Stiles leans his mouth towards his boyfriend’s ear, pressed along the strong lines of his back, and whispers, “God, Derek, everyone in here wants to fuck you.”

Derek just shrugs and looks over his shoulder at Stiles, slightly tickled, “But I’m with you.”

“But if you weren’t?”

And Stiles knows he should stop. That it’s not fair to pick at this but now he’s starting to picture it. Imagining what Derek would look like bent over one of the tables, stretched open and waiting for whichever eager stranger got to him first. 

And part of it is just knowing how gorgeous Derek’s ass looks with his cheeks spread wide, his hole wet and puffy, that makes that a pretty sweet picture. But there’s something else. Something about the idea that they would all love to fuck him, but that Derek would never say yes, never betray Stiles, which makes him want to say yes _for_ Derek.

And he’s so embarrassed and he doesn’t want Derek to know that he’s thinking about him like that, like a piece of meat to be passed around the room, but he’s getting so hard thinking about it and there’s no way Derek can’t feel.

“Stiles,” he gasps. “Are you sure, you really want to know?”

“Yes, Derek, God yes.”

And Derek’s a little embarrassed but he loves hearing how fast Stiles’s heart is beating, how husky his voice has turned, how he’s starting to sweat just from talking about it. And not that their sex isn’t good anymore. It is. It’s phenomenal really. Lots of orgasms for everyone and Stiles is nothing if not creative. But there’s still a certain pattern to their lovemaking, the worn out comfortable grooves they fall into, the married-couple atmosphere of their big cozy bed. So if this is going to make Stiles hot, remind him of a time when everything was new and there was pursuit and surprises and desperation, well then Derek’s going to give it to him.

He spins around so that he and Stiles are face to face, kisses him hard and filthy and wet before wrapping an arm around his waist and sliding his mouth up his neck and to his ear.

“Sometimes, in New York, I’d go to a club like this.”

He pauses and waits for Stiles’ “Uh huh?” before he continues.

“I’d just dance by myself near the bar and wait for someone to come over. And back then I was younger, smaller, and lots of older guys were looking for someone like that, would trip over themselves to offer to buy a drink for a little twink like me. They’d ask if I wanted to get out of there, and I’d go.”

“So you’d just, just say yes and then hook up with them?” Stiles asks, a little awed. He’d had his own adventures in casual sex his first couple years of college, but never with a total stranger.

“Pretty much, unless they smelled like hunter or were tweaking or something. It's not like I had to worry about getting hurt or sick.”

“So it didn't matter who it was? You'd just fuck anyone?”

“I was just looking to get off,” he answered impassively. “In the city there were enough different clubs to rotate among I pretty much never saw them again.”

“Did you go home with them?’

“Sometimes, with women. Then I’d leave as soon as I was done. But mostly we’d just slip into a bathroom stall, or out back, maybe into a car with a roomy back seat.”

“Holy shit, Derek.” And Stiles is grinding against him now, impressed and overwhelmed and so very aroused at hearing how easily Derek used to give it up, when now he saves everything just for him.

“Want me to show you? Take you into the bathroom and fuck your mouth? Treat you like just another pretty face hungry for my cock?”

And usually Stiles is the one who does the talking, who makes Derek stop and inhale sharply at his suggestions, Stiles who describes filthy things to his silently acquiescent partner. But now Stiles is the one who’s speechless, the one who sucks in his lips and nods solemnly, eyes moist.

 “Let’s go then,” Derek says, smiling wickedly as he leads Stiles to the back of the club.

 

****

 

A few nights later Stiles is buzzing with a million questions fighting to escape his lips, trying not to bring up what happened, worried that Derek will get embarrassed about it outside of the hypnotic and unfamiliar atmosphere of the club. But he’s jerked off twice as much as usual the past few days just picturing Derek being used by random strangers and the words just burst from his mouth.

 

“Do you ever think about it now? What we were talking about at the club? Do you miss it?”

Right away Derek flips over, looks at Stiles oh so earnestly, “I'd never. I'd _never_ cheat on you Stiles.”

“I know Derek, God.” He shakes his head and pushes himself up higher against the headboard, smiles down fondly.

Then Stiles takes a deep breath. “But what, what if I wanted you to?” he asks carefully, eyes on his knees, hands kneading at the comforter. “What if I were there?”

“Jesus, Stiles.”

“No, no forget it. Dude. I’m sorry.” And he looks ready to bolt and go hide in the study all night.

Derek stills him with a hand on his arm. “Stiles, I have not missed it. Being with you is all I need and there is no one, _no one_ that even makes me want to take a second look. But-“

“But?”

“But I like when you tell me what to do. And, I really liked how excited you got at the club. So if you’d enjoy watching, I’d probably enjoy doing that for you. ”

“Derek, I don’t want you to do it just to make me happy if you’re not going to be into it. I mean, yeah, the idea of watching you get fucked by someone else is incredibly hot to me, but _you_ are what matters most.”

“If you’re into it I will be too. It is as simple as that Stiles. Doing stuff you like is what I like. I’m all yours and if you’re sure you want to watch that, I’d love to make it happen for you.”

“So... really? We’re really gonna do this?” Stiles asks, adrenaline and fear and arousal pumping through him with equal ferocity.

“Yes.” Derek confirms. “We are.”

 

****

 

“Him.”

 Derek points with his chin at a slender guy with shoulder length locs and a pale purple button down shirt.  Stiles had noticed him too, and yes he's been checking Derek out but he's had the decency to be a little subtle about it. Not like the douche across the bar who was making blow job faces at Derek when he thought Stiles wasn't watching.

So they dance a little closer to where he’s standing, grind on each other a bit more obviously. And when they've clearly made an impression Stiles sends Derek to the bar for drinks and then turns to the chosen stranger.

 “You want to fuck him don't you?”  Stiles gets right to the point, imagines Derek jerking with surprise when his ears pick up on it.

“What? No man. I was just looking. Sorry.” He holds his hands up and starts to back away.

“Dude, it's cool. It's ok.” Stiles smiles, licks his lips a little.

The guy’s looking like he wants to run before he gets his ass kicked but he stays, cocks an eyebrow.

“You can,” he says. “Fuck him, that is. If you want to.”

The guy's big brown eyes get even wider as Stiles continues.

“It's cool with me and he wants to- you just gotta let me watch. But if you’re not down, no biggie.” Stiles is thankful this man has no superpowers, can’t hear his pulse pounding furiously, can’t the smell the sweat beading up on his forehead, just believes in the cool, calm façade he’s presenting.

Then Derek's back with their drinks, attaching himself to Stiles side and burying his face in his neck. Stiles goes on as if he’s not even there, fueled by fresh images of the ways Derek could let this stranger wreck him.

“Or maybe you don't want to fuck him? He could suck your cock. His mouth is so sweet- I trained him out of his gag reflex a couple of years ago. He's really good. Really eager.”

And the guy is looking pretty nervous but he's not walking away. So Stiles offers a hand, introduces himself.

 “He's Derek by the way, not that it really matters.”

“Jason,” he offers, looks Derek up and down hungrily, and answers, “Uh, yeah. Okay. I’m down. Yeah. You guys got a place around here?”

Stiles shakes his head, “No man. Just meet us out behind the electronics shop two doors down. There’s a stairwell over there, no lights, no cameras. Totally quiet.”

“Alright, see you there.”

 

****

 

They stand in the warm spring air, hold hands and watch the stars as though they’re about to go get ice cream rather than waiting to see if this stranger will show up and shove his cock down Derek’s throat.

“You sure about this, babe? You wanna stop, you just say so.” Stiles is still, trying so hard not to push, to make it easy for Derek to take the out.

“I’m ready,” he replies, eager to please. “I mean, unless you’re changing your mind. I only want this if you do.” Derek swallows hard, reaches over and palms at Stiles’ crotch. “But judging by how hard you are right now,”  he says, “I’m gonna guess this is still working for you.”

“Are you kidding? This is like the hottest porn ever- only starring my perfect handsome boyfriend. This is _definitely_ working for me.” Stiles says grinning. “But for real, you change your mind at any time, just stop and walk away. I’ll deal with Jacob.”

“Jason.”

“Whatever.” Stiles wraps his arms around Derek, brushes light kisses against his neck which deepen into hard bites as he takes one last chance to remind Derek that no matter what he’s _his._

 

****

 

Stiles isn’t too surprised when Jared, err Jason, shows up, it would be hard to give up a chance with Derek; he just hopes that the whole him-being-there aspect works out alright.

“Hey,” he says, nodding first at Stiles and then turning towards Derek who remains silent, hands just resting at his sides, waiting for Stiles to give him his cue.

“Go ahead Jason, why don’t you kiss him?” And when he reaches for Derek’s stubbled cheek his jaw falls open easily, he’s unhurried in his kisses but completely accepting of the stranger’s tongue as it sweeps into his mouth.

One small flicker of jealousy races up Stiles’ spine, causes his stomach to clench, but then he’s just overwhelmed by how gorgeous Derek looks with his eyes closed, the way his ears wiggle when he swallows, all the things he doesn’t get to see when he’s the one kissing him. He thinks about all the other different ways he’d love to see Derek. Decides he has got to see him giving a blow job. Sure he’s had the pleasure of watching from above as Derek’s mouth worked around his own dick, but God, to have a full view of him on his knees, throat clenching around another man’s thick cock. Stiles already has to slip a hand into his jeans and make himself more comfortable.

 

“Jason, why don’t you lean against the wall there and unbutton your pants? Derek I want you kneeling in front of him.”

Derek offers Stiles a small smile as he sinks onto the dirty parking lot, then bows his head back down and waits for Stiles to continue, the smell of this new cock already tantalizing to him.

“Okay Derek, now pull out his dick. Yeah, good, oh nice, you want to taste it don’t you?” And Derek nods, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. “Go ahead, lick him nice and slow.”

Jason give Stiles the side-eye at first, not totally prepared for this level of direction, but as soon as Derek’s tongue is on him the awkwardness passes and all he can do is drop his head against the wall and groan.

Stiles coaxes Derek as he gets Jason wet and sloppy, encourages him until finally he’s sucked him all the way deep into his mouth. He is so awed by, so grateful for Derek’s unhesitant compliance. It’s an amazing gift that he treasures, the way Derek’s willing to take whatever Stiles throws his way, even if he is using a stranger’s body to do so. And he realizes that Derek’s going out of his way to angle his head, drop his shoulder, make sure that Stiles is getting a good view of exactly what he’s doing. And while he appreciates the effort he wants Derek to get lost in this, wants to see his face once he’s stopped thinking about anything besides the taste and feel of the cock he’s choking on.

 

“Jason. Jason.” Stiles has to snap his fingers to break him out of his daze, something he can definitely relate to as a frequent recipient of Derek’s amazing blow jobs. But he needs Jason to pay attention if he’s going to give it to Derek the way he likes it. “Derek’s going to stay very still now and you’re going to fuck his face until you come.”

Jason tentatively pushes in as Derek opens wider, slowly presses his hips forward, but Stiles knows what Derek can handle, what Derek needs.

“Harder. He can definitely take it.” And he speeds up a little, puts his hands close to Derek’s ears.

“Yeah, put your hands in his hair.  Go ahead and pull on it, he really likes that.”

And when he grabs a handful and yanks Derek moans, drool escaping down his chin. “Yeah, you hear that. You hear the way my little slut likes it when you give it to him hard?”

Stiles hadn’t meant to call him that, they hadn’t discussed it before hand and he doesn’t mean it, not like that, of course not. But damn if vocalizing that doesn’t make him almost shoot off in his pants. And from the way Derek’s eyes flutter it’s clear he liked it too.

Jason has clearly stopped caring about hurting Derek, urged on by Stiles until he’s seeing Derek’s mouth as just a place to put his cock, grasping roughly at his head and thrusting in as forcefully as he can.

“Shit, I’m gonna come. Fuck.”

“Yeah, you do that. Don’t pull out.  Make him swallow all your come like a dirty whore.”

And Derek’s shaking with pleasure at Stiles’ words, at being totally at his mercy, the way he so easily tunes into what he’s feeling and offers his body to this other man.

Then his mouth is filling with come but all he can think about is how warm and loved he feels that he and Stiles can do this for each other, can trust each other this deeply. He doesn’t even notice when Stiles zips Jason up and pushes him on his way back to the club with nothing more than a _thanks dude._

And then they’re kissing and Stiles can taste the other guy’s come on Derek’s tongue. And it should be gross but he just doesn’t care.

“God Derek, I love you so fucking much. You did so good. That was so hot.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t come in your pants,” he teases, once his brain has cleared enough to form actual words.

“Almost did,” he groans, “so close. But I was saving it for you.” He begins opening his jeans as he backs up against the wall, pulling Derek in towards him.

 “You want it don’t you? You want another load of come down your throat.”

“Yeah, Stiles, come on. Want your taste in my mouth. Always want you.”

And Stiles wastes no time pressing all the way in.

“Fuck Derek. You’re so good. You’re mine aren’t you. All mine.”

Derek hums in agreement, grabs Stiles’s hips even tighter. 

“Mine to share with _anyone_ I want.” And at that Derek’s the one coming in his own pants and his throat clenches around Stiles and then they’re both tipping over together.

 

After, Stiles rubs his hands over Derek’s scalp, coaxes him up to standing with a firm grip on his jaw. He braces himself against the cold cement and takes Derek’s weight on his shoulders. He kisses him long and slow and sweet, rubs circles into Derek’s back, whispers how very, very good he was, so hot, so gorgeous, so perfect, until Derek’s ready to stand straight again and look him in the eye.

“You good, babe?” Stiles asks, adjusting Derek’s jacket and smoothing out his shirt.

“Yeah,” Derek answers, soft and pleased, “I’m good.”

**Author's Note:**

> WARNINGS: Read the tags, definitely. As far as specifics, Stiles refers to Derek as both a slut and a whore during a sexual encounter. Derek really likes it and it is not part of an extensive verbal humiliation. 
> 
>  
> 
> Let me known if there's anything else helpful to tag and/or describe in the warnings.  
> I'm hoping this will build into a series, but this part is very much complete.


End file.
